


i'm not red riding hood

by bellamythology (onemanbellarmy)



Series: Bellarke AU Week 2016 [6]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Book/Movie Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke AU Week, F/M, Fusion - Wolves of Mercy Falls, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:06:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7569991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemanbellarmy/pseuds/bellamythology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn’t find anyone — wolf or human — as she sprinted through the trees, but when she reached her own back porch she drew up short.</p><p>A boy lay there, sweat drenching his dark curls, freckles standing out against the pallor of his skin, blood spreading across his bare chest. Then he opened his eyes.</p><p>They were exactly the same as Clarke’s wolf.</p><p>[Technically a Wolves of Mercy Falls Fusion, but really all you need to know is - werewolves.]</p><p>(Bellarke AU Week Day 6: Crossover)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the middle of rereading Maggie Stiefvater's series, and I've been wanting to write this one for a while!

A low whine caught Clarke’s attention, and she dropped her book as she hurried to her window.

There he was, waiting patiently at the edge of the woods — her wolf, with his startlingly human brown eyes and shaggy gray coat. Lexa may have been the photographer, but even Clarke could see the beautiful contrast of his dark form against the fresh first snowfall.

She’d always seen the beauty of the wolves, even when they’d been minutes away from ripping out her throat.

 

That autumn, Finn Collins was killed by the wolves. He hadn’t exactly been the easiest person to get along with, but by virtue of dying young he attained virtual sainthood. Most of the town turned out to the funeral, though it was telling how few had anything real to say about him.

A few days later, Raven Reyes cornered Clarke after class. “I saw my cousin last night.”

Clarke blinked. “Like, in a dream, or —?”

“At the edge of the woods. In real life. Oh, don’t play dumb.” Raven twisted her hair up into an elegantly messy ponytail. “Everyone around here knows that you’ve got something going on with the wolves.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, you and your photographer friend, the one who’s always taking pictures of them. Anyway, my dad thinks you’re feeding them, so I figure you’d want to know that they’re planning to kill them all. Starting today.”

 

“Miss, you can’t be here.”

Clarke didn’t try to pull away from the officer who’d stopped her — even as she worried that she might be too late, she knew that she’d never be able to stop them on her own. “You’ve gotta tell them to stop shooting. My friend — she’s out there! She was planning to take photographs, and she’s here in the woods, so you’ve got to —”

The cop swore and snatched up his radio. “All units, do you hear me? Cease shooting. There’s someone — hey!”

But Clarke was already gone.

 

She didn’t find anyone — wolf or human — as she sprinted through the trees, but when she reached her own back porch she drew up short.

A boy lay there, sweat drenching his dark curls, freckles standing out against the pallor of his skin, blood spreading across his bare chest. Then he opened his eyes.

They were exactly the same as Clarke’s wolf.

 

The bullet was through-and-through, so Clarke managed to bandage up the wound with her mom’s medical kit. (Her parents were, as always, not home — Abby at work at Arkadia General; Jake most likely in his other studio.) “I think you’re going to be okay. I hope so, anyway,” she said, not quite sure if the boy could hear her, or if he was conscious enough to understand the words. “Do you have a name?”

“Bell —” He tried to sit up, and winced. “Bellamy. My family calls me Bell.”

“Bellamy,” she repeated. “I’m Clarke.”

He smiled suddenly, bright and warm and somehow familiar. “I know.”

 

After seventeen-plus years of driving to and from school alone, coming home to an empty house, doing her homework alone, eating dinner in an empty kitchen, then going to bed alone … Well, anyone could guess that it was an amazing change to have Bellamy around.

He kept her company in the car, and in the house, and — perhaps best and most important — at night, he was there, a warm reassuring presence at her back, solid and comforting.

Limbs tangled with her wolf-turned-boy, relaxing into the steady beat of his heart, it had never been so easy for Clarke to fall asleep.


	2. the happiest part of my tragic backstory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s —” Clarke couldn’t help her grin, and Lexa made a face. “He’s a boy I met. I like him a lot.”
> 
> (Some Bellamy backstory and a whole lotta domesticity.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! It took me some time to figure out how much of the books I wanted to recreate, and where I wanted to take this chapter in particular. But I think I've got it now, so while I don't want to make empty promises, I think updates should come more frequently now.
> 
> Also, I have borrowed basically all of Bellamy's backstory from Sam's, primarily because I didn't feel the need to improve on the original.

A crash startled Clarke from one of the soundest sleeps she’d enjoyed in a very long time, and it took her more than a moment to gather her bearings. In the silence that followed, she gradually became aware that the bed was rather colder than it had been.

Where had her wolf-turned-boy gone?

Suddenly she managed to fit the puzzle pieces together. Faster than conscious thought, she was out of bed and darting down the hallway to the source of the noise, heart pounding, blurry scenarios lurking in the corners of her imagination. _What if —_

She stopped short a few feet from the bathroom. There was Bellamy, bracing his body weight against the doorframe, tension in his shoulders bunching up the long-sleeved shirt she’d lent him. He didn’t react when she called his name softly, so she hesitantly reached out a hand.

Enhanced wolf senses were clearly not just a thing of the myths, because he seemed to sense her touch long before it actually reached him. He turned, shrinking back, eyes wide and teeth bared in an inhuman snarl momentarily, before he took a shaky breath and slumped against the wall.

As she cautiously approached and crouched beside him, he sighed, eyes closing, and dropped his head to her shoulder. Gently Clarke brushed her fingers through his hair, settling cross-legged on the ground. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

Bellamy shuddered, darting a quick glance into the bathroom. “I was eight when I was bitten. Initially the change between wolf and human is set off by any shift in temperature, so I was shifting back and forth almost constantly. My mother and sister had no idea what was happening — I mean, neither did I, but where I was terrified of what was happening to me, they were terrified _of_ me. They thought I’d hurt them, and I hardly knew myself while I was shifting, and I could’ve… but I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself afterward… It was only about a week before they…” He straightened, eyes still closed. “My mother and her boyfriend held me down in the bathtub and —” Jaw clenched, he shook his head, then yanked up a sleeve.

Dread and horror squeezing at her heart, Clarke gently took his arm and was unpleasantly unsurprised to see the jagged scar tissue across his wrist. “Oh, Bellamy.”

He shrugged, aggressively nonchalant. “My mother was arrested. Life sentence. And my sister was put in foster care. She was five. I’d bet she’s pretty messed up about it, if she even remembers. Maybe she just repressed the whole thing, forgot she even ever had a brother.”

“What about you?” Clarke asked softly, taking his hand.

“That’s the happiest part of my tragic backstory, I guess.” He laughed shortly. “Kane’s the reason I didn’t totally lose it. He found me in the hospital, rescued me before they could realize that I shouldn’t have healed as fast or well as I did. He brought me to the house, offered me books and cooking lessons, a new identity.” He paused. “A family.”

Clarke surprised herself by saying, “I’d like to meet them. Your family. They’ll be shifting back when it gets warmer, right?”

“Yeah.” Bellamy managed a smile, getting to his feet and pulling her up after him. “I’d like you to meet them, too.”

 

School was unfortunately still a necessary evil in Clarke’s life, but now at least Bellamy was there to kiss her good-bye before heading to the bookstore to see if he could turn his standing summer job into a full-time position. (He had high hopes: Indra, the owner, was a longtime friend of Kane’s who never asked questions about their seasonal disappearances.)

Lexa ambushed her as soon as Clarke reached her locker. “Where have you been? And what’s with The Boy you let drive your precious Sonata?” Her tone and cocked eyebrow left Clarke in no doubt as to the extent of her curiosity, or the presence of unconventional capital letters in the second question.

“He’s —” Clarke couldn’t help her grin, and Lexa made a face. “He’s a boy I met. I like him a lot.”

“He’s pretty,” Lexa said in much the same manner she would describe a sunset or rosebush. Mostly dismissive, but with an undercurrent of aesthetic appreciation. “Think he’d model for us?”

“I doubt he could sit still long enough for a painting. A sketch, maybe,” Clarke mused, conveniently leaving out the fact that she’d already filled countless sketchbooks with drawings of her wolf, and several more pages with portraits of the boy he’d become. “Photographs, I don’t know. If he met you…” She nudged her best friend, shooting her a playful side-eye. “You might scare him off.”

“If he scares so easily, he’ll never survive you.”

“You know, I think he’s going to be fine.”

The bell rang just then, and Lexa shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it.”

As they headed into their classes, Clarke caught a glimpse of Raven Reyes leaning against a nearby locker, looking in their direction. The other girl held her gaze for a minute, then turned and walked away.

 

“How’d it go with Indra?” Clarke asked as she unlocked the front door.

“Great, she said she’s been meaning to give me a promotion anyway. It’s not a huge deal since there’s only like four of us, but it comes with a raise and flexible hours. And she gave me a set of keys to the store.”

“So you can sneak in at midnight to read?”

Leaning down, Bellamy pecked her cheek. “Don’t worry, I’d definitely rather be in your bed. Preferably with you, of course, but —”

She shoved him playfully, then shrieked as he half-tackled her onto the couch. They were both breathless with laughter, and Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so content.

“You hungry?” she asked, then slapped at his arm in retaliation for the wicked smirk he gave her. “For _food_ , Bellamy. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

Neither of her parents would be back until late, as was usual, so she and Bellamy were free to make a mess of the kitchen. While she pulled the chicken and butter out to defrost, he measured out flour and milk with the ease of practice.

“What?” he asked, smiling, when he caught her watching him.

She shook her head, on the verge of a laugh. (It might be eventually become a problem, if she couldn’t stop grinning so hard just knowing he was around and human and _hers._ But when it was only the two of them, Clarke had a hard time caring what anyone else might think.) “Nothing, just — I would never in a million years guess that I would one day have a werewolf in my kitchen, making — What _are_ you making?”

“Bread.”

The laugh bubbled over and escaped, and after a moment of playing at affront he joined her.

“But really, why bread?”

His smile faded a little as he addressed the mixing bowl, hands never pausing in their sure, steady movements. “When I was ten, I apparently went through a phase where I would only eat bread. Pike thought it was dumb that it took so many food runs to _feed the stupid kid_ , so he ended up learning how to make it, and he taught me. That was the year before he went missing.”

Clarke came up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his shoulder blade. “I’m sorry. You must miss him.”

Bellamy shrugged, then reached back to loosen her grip enough to turn and face her. “It’s been a while. Besides, I’m not convinced that crazy bastard was a good influence — he’s also the one who gave me the ‘birds and bees’ talk when I was nine.”

The timer went off, and Clarke reluctantly extricated herself to silence it. On her way back, she turned up the radio and grabbed a cutting board. “Can you make anything besides bread?”

He carefully scraped the last of the dough into the loaf pan before looking up. “Are you offering to teach me?”

“I’ll teach you all kinds of things,” she promised, waving him over.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out the [aesthetics for this fic](http://bellamythology.tumblr.com/post/147883097520/im-not-red-riding-hood-bellarke-au-week-day-6) and talk to [me](http://bellamythology.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


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